Unrequited In C Sharp
by vexatively
Summary: Because sometimes, all love ever can be is unrequited. "In which Rachel can't cook and Puck helps out." Drabbleverse
1. Cheerleader

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Cheerleaders.**

All teenagers are inherently different. Actually, all humans are different but all teenagers are inherently self-centered, too. Thus, they are all _losers_. Quinn knows this. She's seen first-hand how they try to fight this realization, all their focus centered on how _they _were so obviously different and how to make _them _look better. Of course, they don't realize that all of them focus so hard on themselves that no one really has time to look at anyone else.

It's a concept that Ms. Pillsbury has learnt, Coach Sylvester has exploited and Coach Tanaka has scoffed at. Yet it's only Mr. Schue who's really understood them… understood _her._

That it's hard cheering for losers.

That it's hard, hard, hard being the cheerleader in the sidelines— in the spotlight but no one ever _sees _you, like a twisted parody of a backup singer— and when you have your own inner demons, the hardest thing isn't coping with them. It's smiling while doing a double backflip like there's nothing wrong in the world.

Only there _is_.

And it must be hard when Mr. Schue is forever the cheerleader, because right now he has the biggest demons of them all. But no one in Glee club would sing _Keep Holding On… _not to their cheerleader. And it must be even harder when some of the most observant people in the school, all clumped in the lamest club in school, stay so damned _oblivious_ in their perfect, slightly troubled little bubbles.

In the end, they are the cheerleaders with perfect little smiles for losers that never _see_ them.

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: Pshh. Like I need something else to update. But I adore the idea of Quinn/Will (Quill! 3). But anyway, this is an anthology of oneshots and drabbles featuring... what else? Unrequited love. And since I need a theme to tie it all together, we have words beginning with the letter 'C'. These drabbles are probably really incoherent and stuff. But it's really late, I'm procrastinating on math and it's a Thursday.**

**_The Gleeks will inherit the Earth!_**


	2. Contrived

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Contrived.**

Until yesterday, Emma would have defined a smile as an upward curving of lips. A contrived effort to put the people viewing said expression at ease… nothing more, nothing less.

Until yesterday, she believed this definition wholeheartedly.

Life was predictable and it was just the way things should be. Instead of living, Emma… drifted. But drifting was okay. Drifting meant that you didn't get attached to anything, and certainly not to pets that pooped and got dirt everywhere and _died_ (oh, and people too).

That was because until yesterday, Emma hadn't met Will Schuester

And suddenly, smiles have so much more _meaning _and laughter wasn't forced and a touch neurotic. She could live again, without worrying about the unraveling threads at the fringe of her life. She _loved_…

_Will leans towards her, and she wants to focus on his intense proximity but _goddammit! _her mysophobia is acting up again but she doesn't want dust distracting her from the way he's looking at her through his lashes or the chalk-dust flecked on his clothes._

_So she swallows the disgust away and just _looks_ at him and little does Will know it's like skydiving, the adrenaline rush is so sudden. All that's stopping Emma from leaning over and pressing her lips to his is how she'd get dust on his pretty face if she did and that insignificant glint from his wedding ring._

… and hoped she would be loved in return.

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: **Oh, Wemma. xD Still incoherent. Don't stop believing (it).


	3. Catchphrase

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Catchphrase.**

It's a blustery Tuesday afternoon in the arcade when Finn decides he needs a catchphrase.

"I need a catchphrase."

"What?!" Puck asks, half-yelling in his certainty that the cacophony of screams and gunshots and cheesy bubblegum music from the nearby DanceDanceRevolution has finally deafened him.

"A catchphrase!" Finn half-shouts back and then it all registers in Puck's head, and he stops right in the middle of blowing out a zombie's brains. Puck winces and he doesn't know if it's from the volume or from fact that Finn has finally cracked. Probably the latter, he concedes, as being in Glee has made him immune to the nauseatingly high ballads Berry had and the loud squabbles amongst the group.

"What? Have you gone insane?"

"Aye caramba!" chirps the quarterback with a goofy grin that even mutilated kittens couldn't kill.

"No, seriously, why woul**―**"

"Mmmm... doughnuts."

"Just stop, Finn, just**―**"

"Don't have a cow, man!"

"For _fuck's sake, _Finn," he hisses, "if you have to have a catchphrase, can it _not _be from the goddamn Simpsons?"

"May the Force be with you," Finn agrees solemnly.

"Where is that even fro**―**"

"We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on."

"That's not even a catchp**―**"

"I'll get you, my pretty! And your little dog too!"

"I give up!" Puck groans, throwing his arms in the air exasperatedly. There was no stopping Finn, who always seemed to be going everywhere and nowhere at a hundred thousand miles per hour and who was he to fight with a speeding bullet. "Whatever! You win!"

This time, Finn doesn't even respond, choosing instead to grin in a manner much like the Cheshire Cat's. Puck only rolls his eyes and drags his smug teammate away from the wailing arcade machine. He ignores the _Game Over _and ditches the tokens still left in the machine. He's feeling kind of generous today, because there's always something about Finn that made you want to help grannies and stuff.

"This is why Glee Club has a reputation for geeks," Puck ribs, punching Finn in the arm good-naturedly.

Finn softens a little at the implication that _he_ made New Directions geeky. Not vice versa and certainly not any of the other club members. Ruffling the other man's mohawk (oh dear god, not the mohawk), he quickly leaves but not before throwing a perfectly Kurtalicious, "You know you love me, xoxo," over his shoulder.

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: **Unrequited!Finn, in case it's not obvious. Or I guess it can be Unrequited!Puck, too. In which case sometimes love can be requited after all. Pinn. Or Fuck. I adore them.


	4. Confusion

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Confusion.**

It's Rachel who first asks the question and it isn't because of her stunning observational skills. It's just a topic that everyone else has learned to veer around; the flamboyantly pink elephant in the room, stifling Glee Club and its members. Rachel would have remained oblivious, if something from the recurring incidents hadn't slapped her in the face.

They were walking down the hallway altogether— Kurt and Rachel. Rachel's the only one who doesn't notice the charged atmosphere, maybe because she naïvely thinks that Kurt's over his crush, the same way she's over hers.

"Why do you continue to let yourself be bossed around, Kurt?" she asks, shifting the weight of her shoulder bag until it's comfortable. "You're better than them now… I mean, we won _Sectionals_. The football players aren't bothering you as much anymore."

_So why are you still getting thrown into the dumpster?_

The silence is awkward and long.

"I mean," she whispers, and Kurt's not so sure it's for them, "you're a _star_. Shouldn't something change? Anything?"

In many ways, she's still innocent and childlike because there's no way a sophomore could think that one win could balance out a lifetime of loserdom. Then again, Rachel's never been the best at math.

"We're better than them," Kurt concedes and he can see Rachel nodding along to logic that finally makes _sense_. He smoothes out the curve of his hair; a gesture of confidence, they all think, but they couldn't be farther from the truth. "Of course we are, Rachel. That's why we have to _be _better."

Because sometimes, petty high school kids need some form of normalcy left in the remains of their shattered status quo.

Rachel thinks she understands it all, _of course. _They have to be the noble, persecuted stars that will shine brighter for it. And Kurt wants to erase that admiring gleam in Rachel's eyes. _I'm not a_ _martyr,_ Kurt wants to say.

But she can't possibly understand that sometimes, life _isn't _a musical. Not for someone like him.

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: **Kurt is such an awesome character. I love him to bits, and there are so many moments where just steals the show completely and leaves me breathless.


	5. Content

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Content.**

He knows, and she knows he knows. It's a secret that everyone's in on; just ask the deaf little kid the next town over. No one ever has to say it.

Emma is settling.

But that's okay because he's settling for her too. They're both scared even if they show it in different ways— her clinging desperately to something without the hope of loving her back because it's _safe _and his detachment from anything that actually matters.

He'll always be second and she thinks that if (when) Will flutters his boy-lashes at her _like that_, she'll forget completely that she has her husband and her house and her kids (if she ever lets him touch her) and flutter over at him back.

It doesn't matter than Ken says over and over again how he loves her more than life itself and how he goes along with how she tries to distance herself, disguised as nonsensical little quirks.

Ultimately, though, _Ken knows Emma. _Better than her father or her mother. Better than any of her siblings. Better than Will.

He knows that if Will ever manages to leave his harpy of a wife, Emma will shy away because she's cozy in the little bubble she's made for herself. She's content and that's all she ever wants to be. Will makes her soar and plummet and feel like she can do anything. And that feeling of losing control will always scare her.

He even knows her better than she knows herself (_because Emma enjoys lying to herself so_).

_Ken _makes her content. Neither of them wants to be alone but neither would have to be because at least they've settled with each other.

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: **More unrequited Wemma, with Ken thrown in.


	6. Celebrity

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Celebrity.**

"Do you have the goods?"

If he could have, Sandy Ryerson would have splurged and gone for a chic all-black trenchcoat with a splash of color from a striking bandana or hat brimming with roguish charm. Hell, he probably would have bought a catsuit while he was at it, and probably tried to burgle that sap Schue's place.

Instead, he had to make do with his regular outfit. Oh, the shame.

"Yeah, I do." The man seemed to be overly anxious, seeing hulking shapes in the shadows when there were none. Normally, Sandy wouldn't want to even be seen associating with such a character in broad daylight. Between his smelly nicotine-coated fingers, however, was the one thing that made Sandy break _all _of his rules.

"Careful," Sandy hissed. "_That_ is going into the scrapbook."

"I bet your mommy doesn't know about the shrine you have in the back of your closet." His fingers clutched the scrap like a lifeline. Considering what he was exchanging it for, it probably was.

"I live alone, you cretin," the older man sniffed, ignoring the man's sarcastic _whoopdedoo._ "But no, no she doesn't. And I plan for it to stay that way."

"Sheesh. You're acting like I even care. This is jus' a business deal."

"Tick-tock. Time's a-wasting."

"Hurry it up already. I ain't got much of it and Bubba can sniff out all this trech'ry like his momma's bacon."

Furtively, Sandy palmed a brown-paper packet into the twitchy man's palm. "Chronic Lady," he purred, pleased at the way the man's bloodshot eyes darted around.

"Bubba will _kill_ me if he finds out," he whimpered.

"Bubba is not here, is he? Only Sandy and his Chronic Lady."

Sandy had already forgotten his name. Everyone was insignificant. Everyone, except for that angel sent from heaven to deliver platinum records unto them… unto_ him_.

"Our deal, good sir," he reminded the stringy man pointedly. "My Nirvana for your Promised Land." Sandy shuddered, not from the marijuana keeping him on a constant, thrumming high but the heady rush of desire when his goal was _so close_.

"Here," he shoved the scrap of paper into Sandy's waiting palm.

Ahhhh. Bliss.

Now to call Mr. Groban, and offer him the finest of sultry and virile older men. But after putting said paper into his shrine first.

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: **The drabble you've all obviously been waiting for. The most epic unrequited loves of all time. Sandy/Josh Groban.


	7. Curiosity

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Curiosity.**

It's not often Santana gets curious because she's never really been involved enough to care. Glee, though, has screwed her over completely because she finds herself _caring _instead of complaining about her nail beds or just letting the shit hit the fan.

Only sometimes though, which is the only thing that stops her from freaking out completely.

"You're just as good as Rachel and you know it," she tells Mercedes one day after practice. Mercedes only looks at her with that perpetual _uh-huh _expression. Santana fights the urge to protest that Coach hasn't even asked her to sabotage her or anything, so why look at _her_ like that? "Why don't you sing? I mean, don't you feel bitter about never being the center of attention?"

"It's all Rachel has. Me, I've got my family. I've got my boy Artie and my girls, Tina and Kurt. Rachel though? She's got her dads, who aren't all there when it comes to high school drama, and Finn, _maybe_, on a good day. I figure you woulda known where I was coming from, Skinny Number Two."

Santana blinks at the sudden change of subject and the unexpected moniker. "Me?"

Mercedes only laughs. "You're just as good as Quinn, girl, and you know it."

She's never (_consciously_) realized that she was holding back at cheerleading. Quinn's always been her friend since kindergarten and cheerleading was _her _thing. Between her psycho parents and her clueless boyfriend, Santana doesn't really blame her because there was just something about cheerleading that makes you feel invincible.

And at the end of the day, it's the _attainable_ cheerleaders people flock to, not the perfect head cheerleader with the quarterback boyfriend. _That _is all that Quinn sees and she'll never care that Santana will always be there and that Quinn will always have her to rely on.

Nothing, save appearances, matters. Santana will move mountains to make sure it stays that way.

It's not until later that Santana realizes Mercedes never really answered her second question. But, thinking about Quinn, maybe she knows what Mercedes is talking about after all.

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: **Santana/Quinn and Mercedes/Rachel if you squint. Oh, and close your eyes. xD


	8. Concentration

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Concentration.**

(_One day, a little girl decided that she deserved a prince. So she went about getting one…_)

It was habit that got them together. He was struggling through history and would go to the library during lunchtime, every Tuesdays and Thursdays. He'd sit in the back, near the window where he got a view of their more-brown-than-green football field.

Her fingers would run over the books from authors Y-Z. She would look at him from behind the shelves— _take a deep breath, Terr, you can do this_— and would walk past where he sat, hunched over his textbooks.

Repeatedly.

Finally, and struggling to hide her impatience, she yanked his nose from between the pages and plopped herself in his lap. Her hands smoothed out her skirt, disguising her nervousness as something baser, sultrier. "I can help you with history," Terri had said, and melted when Will's face shone with gratitude.

"Really?"

Later, she learns that he hadn't known her name; he was only vaguely aware that she was a fellow sophomore. That is Will— far too trusting. She also learns that he was working so hard on his schoolwork because he _just couldn't _be put on academic probation right before Regionals. That is also Will— far too dedicated.

He has tunnel vision, and no one knows it better than Terri. Ever since she decided to just _go for it_, she's noticed him, learned what made him tick. So she grabs his attention like nothing else, offering him …, forbidden fruit, and…, all wrapped in a neat little package.

So she changes his habits, makes him learn to _look at her._

"I owe you big time, Terri," sighs Will, leaning back in the creaky chair. She has no idea how she's tutoring him, but he seems to believe the lies she spins around him faster and faster. The damp clings to the threads and makes them sticky and heavy and sickeningly sweet.

"You bet," she giggles flirtatiously. _You have no idea_, she adds in a whisper, thinking of innocence lost in the backseat of a steaming car.

Will gets straight A's in history for the next three years.

(_… and when she finally got one, she refused to think about what she left along the way, breadcrumbs scattered in the wake of the wind._)

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: **The way Terri tried to cover up the hysterical pregnancy was definitely hate-worthy (especially since it blocked the Wemma!), but there's just something so sad about a woman who wanted to keep her husband so badly that she became delirious enough to imagine a pregnancy.


	9. Cook

**Unrequited In C Sharp**  
_by **vexatively**_

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**Cook.**

"I can't cook, Noah," Rachel whispers to Puck one day after school, even as she grabs a cookie from the plate laden with treats on top of the piano.

"These cookies are just fine, Berry," Puck assures her through a mouthful of sugar. He's trying to avoid another diva fit (even when Rachel always tornadoes through the Glee Club door the day after), but at least he's not lying this time.

"That's _baking_," she explains condescendingly. Puck has a flash of his sister doing the same thing— it's _Bratz_, not a _Barbie_, you socially retarded prick— and wonders if it's a girl thing. "_Cooking_ is completely different."

"So why tell me?" It's not like he's particularly riveted by her revelation, but Berry didn't _tell _him things unless they somehow involved him or Barbra Streisand.

She promptly shoves a star in her mouth and mumbles something incoherent. Puck reaches over to pluck the pastry and gives her a lopsided grin.

"Try it this way."

Rachel reddens. "I want you to ask your mom if she can cook Pierogi."

"My mom can't cook for shit," he says unthinkingly and winces, the word vomit leaving an acrid taste in the back of his throat.

"Oh." She looks down and away, like she didn't get a solo or when Mr. Schue didn't listen to her choreography suggestions or something stupid like that.

Puck rolls his eyes, resigning himself to a Saturday spent at home… something he hasn't done since he was in the seventh grade and was quarantined for chicken pox. "I can make some, though. The rabbi taught me before my Bar Mitzvah, 'cause he says it's something a man needed to know." He gives her a sidelong glance. "Obviously, not all girls can cook, huh, Berry?"

She jabs him in the side with her elbow, but her eyes are soft. "Thank you, Noah."

--

"And we're done!" The little dance she makes at the end of their troubles looks retarded, but there's no denying the joy in her smile.

(Puck tries not to think at how there is no denying the rapture in her expression, either, as she takes a bite out of their efforts.)

"Finn's gonna like this for sure!"

"Finn?" Puck asks, scowling. _He likes anything with meat, _and not even the pointed jab made him feel any better.

"Yeah… we were talking about Jewish food and he mentioned he never tasted any. I thought my dads could help me make something, except they're away for business. But this tastes great!"

"You're surprised?" Puck asks dryly, shoving his hands in his pockets self-consciously.

Rachel puts down the plate piled with dumplings on the table; her gaze is cast on the ground, sheepish. "I am actually. I hadn't expected things to go so easily, given the fact that you liked me before and all—"

"You don't know anything about me." He knits his brows together. Puck likes to think that his angry face, coupled with his Mohawk, makes him look pretty badass.

"O-oh, I meant I just assumed, because you dated me…"

"You know what they say about people who _ass_ume, Berry." He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, watching just her back walk away from him. Again. "I never liked _you_, Berry. Just your legs."

The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it.

(His mother actually cooks decent, whenever she bothered to, and he was badass _and_ a natural cook, dammit, and Puck doesn't know why he does, but he always seems to _lie _around Rachel Berry.)

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**Disclaimer: **_Glee _belongs to Fox, not me.

**Author's Note: **This was meant to be fluff. Seriously. But then I remembered that it was going into unrequited and things just got kinda bittersweet from there.


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